I have been consistently waking up nigh on every morning barely holding up enough strength to accomplish basic tasks like eat or take my medicine and every day I think I am too drained for school responsibilities and social interactions, and so every day I think I will do whatever it is I need to do, tomorrow. I never thought I was any sick because I wasn’t the depressed kind of drained. If interacted with I can respond in kind. I just won’t interact myself. I can laugh at dumb posts or draw because it comes naturally to me. I ignore all type of online interaction until I think i can handle them without stress. I sincerely just thought I was lazy. Last year things have unfortunately intensified because I was for the first time in years, presented with actual responsibilities I couldn’t evade or delay. At the time I didnt realize their importance, so of course I delayed and evaded them. I drew instead, drew alot. Drew too much. Drew so much it made me wonder if this was healthy. I’m productive after all. Isn’t that good ?
I was deemed unfit for school and fired, and through this process I was confused. Like the reality I was going through wasn’t mine. This school I’ve worked so hard to get in for couldn’t possibly fire me right ? The end of the joke had to come soon. About a week into August the psychiatrist dropped the hammer on me with a list of mental illnesses all tied to chronic illnesses I was already dealing with, a prescription and a recommendation for the closest hospital to handle my case, so to speak. I’ve lost the recommendation, have used the prescription until I no longer could, and I am still processing his diagnosis. Processing isn’t the right word. I’m mostly waiting for God to come out, tap my shoulder and tell me it’s all a joke. That I’m normal. But no. Okay.
I think the most frustrating thing is that I’ve been semi functional my entire life, not sick enough to be deemed dysfunctional altogether, but not functional enough to be allowed basic activities, like going out without sweating, reaching out without panic. I have a cocktail of physical and mental illnesses that are laughable by themselves, but are hell to deal with as an accumulation. I have surges of strength where I think I am normal, and decide to reach out to people who are my friends, only to drain that minuscule stream of energy and absolutely needing to retreat. All my relationships are based on short momentary experiences interspersed with significantly long period of flat line silence, enough time for people to give up and move on. The Undying loyalty of movie friendships had given me impossible expectations, coupled with the fact that I couldn’t possibly give back this support to whoever I expected it from, and for the longest time I couldn’t understand why my friendships were unsubstantiated. Real, genuine friendships cannot be built on a few words of interactions every few week, and it took me very long to realize this fact.
I don’t know how to express to my friends that I love them and that I want them to love me, but that I have this thing, this weird weight, this invisible stuff I cannot define that keeps me from doing more. I’m ashamed of it, I’m sad about it, mad and upset, and it makes me write a long ass tumblr post to nobody in particular instead of reaching out to the people I really need to reach. Stupid.
I’m sorry, I really am. I hope we can go to the movies together sometimes.